


(and you with your) tender offerings

by Ejunkiet



Series: soft, unspoken sounds [1]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Discussions of anniversaries and past history, Found Family, Gen, I cannot get enough of the dynamic between these two, Light bickering between centuries old friends, Part one of the "Soft Nate" series, Soft Nate Series, immortal birthdays, soft and tender emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25222633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejunkiet/pseuds/Ejunkiet
Summary: After nearly three centuries, Nate considers the nature of his own immortality.--“You spent the entire century like that?"Alone,he doesn't say exactly, but Adam reads his meaning easily enough, the corner of his mouth ticking up into an amused smile."It wasn't unusual for me at the time."Nate leans forward then, reaching across the stout coffee table that separates them until he can rest his hand against his thigh. He runs his thumb along the seam where it puckers at the knee, the rough fabric course to the touch, before glancing up to meet his gaze."But not anymore. I'm glad we met, my friend."
Relationships: Adam du Mortain/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell, Nathaniel Sewell & Adam du Mortain
Series: soft, unspoken sounds [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829347
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	(and you with your) tender offerings

**Author's Note:**

> A soft, gentle moment shared between two very old friends.

**_Roughly thirty years ago, Agency facility in a warehouse outside of Forks, Washington._ **

"Do you regret what we've become?"

Adam glances up from his seat on the other side of the small reading room, his eyes as sharp as glass and steady with a clarity that only comes from purity of purpose. He doesn't hesitate when he responds to Nate's sudden question, the answer found easily enough. 

"No." 

They spend a long moment looking at each other without saying anything, before Adam puts down the book he was reading, signaling the end of the rare moment of peace they'd shared for the last several hours. His expression is unreadable as he folds his hands in his lap, green eyes glinting in the half-light as his gaze flickers over Nate carefully, observing. 

"Do you?"

There's weight behind the question, even if Adam's level tone doesn't show it - he can sense it in the way Adam shifts in his seat, the soft leather creaking with the movement.

Nate runs his hand through his hair, longer than he's grown used to, he'll have to tie it back again soon - and thinks about it.

He must take too long, as a gentle chuckle sounds from the other side of the room, and he glances up to see Adam's lips quirk into a smile, amusement clear on his features.

"If you have to take this much time to think about it, then I think you have your answer." 

His tone is light, almost teasing, and Nate purses his lips in response, carefully closing the book in his lap, fingers smoothing over the worn cover as he contemplates his response.

"There are lots of factors to consider."

Adam lifts a sceptical brow. "Really."

"Don't be facetious."

"I wasn't." Placing the book to one side, he leans forward, hands clasped in his lap, his eyes sharp in the dim light. "But it's a straightforward question."

Nate frowns. "I would have to disagree.”

"And you would be wrong." His words are perfunctory, sharp. "You are what you are, just like any other living creature. There's no more complexity to it."

He holds his gaze for a moment longer and then releases a soft sigh, falling back into his seat.His gaze flickers over him, considering, a frown settling on his lips.

"What brought this on, my friend?"

Nate hesitates, worrying his lip between his teeth as he glances down at his hands and the battered, leather cover of the book beneath them. It's a book he remembers from its initial printing almost a century ago, and this copy is almost as old as that first press, pages yellowed and brittle beneath his touch, coming apart in his hands despite his careful treatment.

It's a fitting contrast to himself, ageless and unchanging.

"Tomorrow marks an important date for me. A milestone, of sorts." He looks away from the book, his gaze flickering across the room until he finds the ornate clock face on the mantelpiece. It’s one of his favourite pieces, a carriage clock he’d purchased at the start of the century from a talented watchmaker in the swiss alps, its hushed tick gentle in the silence.

He lets out a slow breath, watching as the delicate hands make their slow, gradual progression towards the hour, before glancing back to Adam, a wry smile on his lips.

"I'm just feeling sentimental."

Understanding dawns on Adam’s expression and he glances towards the clock. "It's the fourth tomorrow."

His statement is met with a comfortable silence that neither of them wants to break.

Adam considers him for a long moment, his eyes dark and shadowed by the flickering light in the reading room. When he speaks again, the words are soft, carefully chosen. "Did you have any plans to mark the occasion?"

Nate laughs softly. "When was the last time we did something like that? At the end of the Great War?" Adam returns his smile, fondness at the memory softening his features. Nate remembers that night well, the parties that went on for days - an entire country united in its celebration. 

"I wasn’t planning anything _that_ dramatic,” he remarks, even as Adam lets out a low chuckle. “But I was thinking that… maybe I should do something, this time. It feels like I should."

Adam nods, his gaze returning to his hands, thumb smoothing along the curve of his wrist. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Nate looks at him then, his smile lingering on his lips even as he purses them in thought.

“What about you?” Adam blinks at him, uncomprehending, and he elaborates, “How did you celebrate the start of your fourth century?”

“We didn’t…” His voice trails off, and Adam glances to the side, his shoulders stiff. Nate bites his lip to hold back a laugh at his sudden awkwardness. “It was harder to keep track, back then.”

“That’s a shame.” Now that he’s thought of it though, he can’t let it go, a flicker of interest stirring at the idea of learning more about Adam’s past. “Is there anything you can tell me, from that century?”

Adam's gaze flickers to the corner of the room, his long fingers unfolding from his lap and rising to tap against the line of his jaw. There's a sheen to his gaze that tells Nate he's remembering something from long ago.

"There’s not much I remember," he admits. "I spent much of it in the east, establishing the agency's foothold there." His eyes return to Nate's, holding steady. "I was alone for most of that time. Easier to hunt the rogues."

Nate's eyes widen, thoughts flicking back to his memories of the agency's records and the journals documenting that period. From what he'd read, this was a difficult time in the history of the agency, and necessitated taking action against the vampire families that occupied the former principalities of Romania.

All told, it was a brutal, bloody century. Nate hadn't known that Adam had been present for it, let alone taken part, although the knowledge doesn't surprise him - Adam had been a key figure in most of the major turning points in the Agency's long, storied history, helping it secure its position on the continent long before he'd taken a ship to the new world.

He focuses again on Adam's words, the meaning beneath them. "You spent the entire century like that?" 

_Alone_ , he doesn't say exactly, but Adam reads his meaning easily enough, the corner of his mouth ticking up into an amused smile.

"It wasn't unusual for me at the time."

Nate leans forward then, reaching across the stout coffee table that separates them until he can rest his hand against his thigh. The material is rough against his palm, unfamiliar in that way that most fashion of this age still was to him (he'd never understand the human preference for harshly woven materials over the comfort of soft linen). He runs his thumb along the seam where it puckers at the knee, glancing up to meet Adam's gaze.

"But not anymore. I'm glad we met, my friend." 

Adam's eyes crease into a soft smile, and he reaches up to grip Nate's forearm, squeezing gently.

"As am I."

There’s a muted chime from the mantlepiece as the carriage clock strikes the hour, interrupting the comfortable silence.

Adam’s eyes flicker to the clock face and back, before he tilts his chin towards Nate’s seat on the other sofa. 

“Wait there.”

Nate nods, pulling back, watching curiously as Adam rises to his feet and turns to a small side cabinet adjacent to the fireplace. He spends a few moments rifling through it as Nate looks on before he turns around with a ninety year old bottle of scotch in one hand, two crystal glasses balanced in the other.

Nate’s eyes widen, even as a broad smile takes over his face. “How long have you had that there?”

“A while. I had to take measures to keep it from going 'missing'.” Hiding it from Morgan, he means, and Nate’s smile grows, his eyes creasing with it as he watches as Adam places the glasses before them and carefully opens the bottle. 

Smokey, blended tones warm the air and Nate's eyes flicker shut briefly as he lets out a low hum of appreciation. He opens them again, a wide smile on his lips as Adam reclaims his seat on the opposite sofa.

"It’s been decades since I’ve had a decent single malt. You have _very_ good taste."

"I learned from the best."

There's an edge of smugness to Adam’s smile as he prepares their drinks, pouring them each a healthy measure, before he hands over the tumbler, their fingers brushing gently with the movement.

“To your health,” he murmurs, raising the glass. His eyes glimmer in the dim light, soft and open, and there’s a swell of feeling in Nate’s chest as he matches the gesture.

“And yours.” 

The silence they fall into as they drink together is comfortable, a private moment removed from the rapid pace of the outside world, from the pressures of duty and responsibility. There is a warmth spreading through him that has nothing to do with the alcohol, a gentle feeling that chases away the lingering melancholy that had been his constant companion these last few weeks.

He looks back up to Adam with a soft smile, a damp heat prickling at his eyes.

“Thank you, my friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> so the rumours of the supernatural in Forks, Washington had to originate from somewhere. Also, this is the eighties, so Adam is wearing _jeans_ , to Nate’s abject horror.
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!! Please come gush over wayhaven with me on tumblr (same username, ejunkiet!)


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